Footnotes
by alirodina
Summary: I love making you blush." R/S, MWPP-era.


Title: Footnotes

Characters: Sirius/Remus

Rating: PG

Summary: "I love making you blush." (Although that's more the prompt than the summary.)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters is to J.K. Rowling and associates.

Notes: For susan5124. I hope you're ok with smoking and drunk teenagers.

"Budge up."

Remus sidled an inch or so to the left, not bothering to open his eyes. His head had fallen down against the arm of the chair, hair covering his face to reveal the fragile curve of his neck. One hand still curled around the neck of the butterbeer bottle containing the firewhisky James had managed to nick from his father's cupboard during the Christmas holidays. Sirius snickered softly, pushing Remus to one side of the armchair as gently as he could so he could sit down.

"Find your own bloody chair," said Remus, thickly.

"Everywhere else is taken, don't be a git."

"'M gonna be sick."

"Not over me." Sirius placed a hand on the back of Remus's neck. "Sit back properly."

"Mmmmm," Remus complained, doing as he was told. Seated as close to Remus as he was, Sirius could almost count each sharp stroke of eyelash that fluttered against Remus's cheeks as he looked at the bottle he was holding. "I've killed it."

"More where that came from," said Sirius. "You finished the bloody bottle by yourself, did you know?"

"Must be why I'm seeing two of you then." Remus grinned weakly. "You could have stopped me."

Sirius leaned over. It was a sign of how pissed he was that Remus did not move away from him, something he had started doing since that incident with Snape months ago. "C'mon, let's go outside."

"Loo's that way," Remus said, pointing at the direction opposite to where Sirius had indicated.

"Door's that way, silly," said Sirius, laughing again as he pulled Remus by the arm. "Why would I want the loo?"

"Sick," said Remus, promptly.

"What you need is a fag, clear your head a bit." Sirius held out the crook of his arm, which Remus accepted with the vague docility of a lamb, albeit one pissed out of its wooly head. "Drunk looks good on you. You're so cute."

Sirius was vaguely aware of Lily Evans raising her head to look at them from her own chair a few feet away. She had only one glass so far and was probably the only sober person in the room, but Remus was squirming against his arm, and he forgot about her.

"Sod off," said Remus, softly. His face, already a faint pink from the firewhisky, reminded Sirius of the little china cups Trelawney used when reading tea leaves.

"C'mon," Sirius said again. Arm in arm, they left the common room.

*

"James wasn't in," Remus observed, once they've reached the Astronomy tower. He leaned against the door with the gratefulness of a lover, eyes swimming as they tried to focus on the cigarette that he had been trying, for the past few seconds, to light up.

"Left with Annabella Dippet hours ago," said Sirius, with a shrug. He talked with his own cigarette stick dangling from his lips, a habit he had picked up from watching too many Muggle movies that Remus called 'bloody Westerns'.

"Hoping to get Lily jealous."

"And failing."

They both giggled. After watching Remus struggle with his cigarette for a few moments more, Sirius lost his patience and pulled Remus closer.

"Sirius--"

Sirius leaned down, taking note of Remus's widened eyes and slightly parted lips. The tips of their cigarettes touched. "Breathe in."

Remus did, shakily. The pinprick of light between them flared, and he exhaled in tendrils of smoke and palpable relief.

"Sit down," said Sirius, a hint of a smile in his voice. He watched Remus sink down the floors before following more gracefully.

"How come you're not as drunk as I am?" said Remus.

"I didn't drink a whole bottle of firewhisky," Sirius pointed out. He reached out and placed the back of his hand against Remus's cheek.

"Your hand is cold."

"It's cold out here."

Seconds passed, more than a third of Sirius's cigarette has turned into a stick of ash. He flicked it away.

"So," he said, cheerfully. "Can I kiss you?"

Remus leaned down, burying his face between his knees. By the bluish light of the moon, Sirius could see Remus blush from his neck to the tips of his ears, and because Sirius couldn't stop himself, he moved close so he could brush his lips against one pink ear.

"Sirius." Remus's voice was muffled, but there was no mistaking the high notes of a whine that made Sirius's name more of a complaint than a warning.

"Don't be daft," said Sirius. "You've always known."

"Suspected," said Remus. "One hell of a difference."

"Well," Sirius conceded. "You're so cute when you're all vague and unsure."

"Stop saying that. I'm not cute." Remus finally looked up. He was frowning. "Girls are cute, and soft toys. I'm neither."

Sirius shrugged. "You haven't answered my question."

Remus nodded, looking at his shoes. Sirius smiled, lifting Remus's chin upwards with one hand, and kissed him. Remus's lips tasted of alcohol and smoke. His breath tickled.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" said Sirius.

Remus flicked him on the forehead. "Git."

"Prat." Sirius piched the tip of Remus's nose.

"My cigarette's all ash," said Remus.

Sirius handed him the pack.


End file.
